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THE DEAN OF FACULTY
A NEW BALLAD
Tune-" The Dragon of Wantley."
DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw,
Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job,
This Hal for genius, wit and lore,
And wan his heart's desire,
Which shews that heaven can boil the pot,
Squire Hal, besides, had in this case
Pretensions rather brassy;
For talents, to deserve a place,
So their worships of the Faculty,
Quite sick of merit's rudeness,
Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see,
As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight
So may be, on this Pisgah height,
Bob's purblind mental vision-
In your heretic sins may you live and die,
But accept, ye sublime Majority,
My congratulations hearty.
With your honours, as with a certain king,
In your servants this is striking, The more incapacity they bring, The more they're to your liking.
EPISTLE TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER
My honor'd Colonel, deep I feel
The steep Parnassus,
And potion glasses.
O what a canty world were it,
Would pain and care and sickness spare it; And Fortune favour worth and merit
As they deserve;
And aye rowth o' roast-beef and claret,
Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her, And in paste gems and frippery deck her; Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker
I've found her still,
Aye wavering like the willow-wicker,
'Tween good and ill.
Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan,
Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on,
Wi' felon ire;
Syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on, He's aff like fire.
Ah Nick! ah Nick! it is na fair,
Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare
Poor Man, the flie, aft bizzes by,
Already in thy fancy's eye,
Thy sicker treasure.
Soon, heels o'er gowdie, in he gangs,
And murdering wrestle,
As, dangling in the wind, he hangs,
But lest you think I am uncivil
To plague you with this draunting drivel, Abjuring a' intentions evil,
I quat my pen,
The Lord preserve us frae the devil!
A LASS WI' A TOCHER
Tune-" Ballinamona Ora."
Awa' wi your witchcraft o' Beauty's alarms,
Chorus-Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher,
Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher;
The nice yellow guineas for me.
Your Beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows,
But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes,
And e'en when this Beauty your bosom hath blest
HERON ELECTION BALLAD, NO. IV.
Tune-" Buy Broom Besoms."
WHA will buy my troggin, fine election ware,
Chorus-Buy braw troggin frae the banks o' Dee;
There's a noble Earl's fame and high renown,
Here's the worth o' Broughton in a needle'e e'e;
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here's its stuff and lining, Cardoness's head,
Here's a little wadset, Buittle's scrap o' truth,
Here's an honest conscience might a prince adorn;
Here's armorial bearings frae the manse o' Urr;
Here is Satan's picture, like a bizzard gled,
Here's the font where Douglas stane and mortar names; Lately used at Caily christening Murray's crimes.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here's the worth and wisdom Collieston can boast;
Here is Murray's fragments o' the ten commands;
Saw ye e'er sic troggin? if to buy ye're slack,
COMPLIMENTARY VERSICLES TO JESSIE
FILL me with the rosy wine,